Through the inhalation of that particular dried burning leaf it was never really his intention to carry out any kind of analysis of the actual state, rather to allow it to help him produce ideas which, as always, it seemed to be doing if not slightly differently to how he’d previously expected. In presupposing that its effects would be dramatically negative in character, fearful and apocalyptic and highly, darkly imaginative, Whitetrash appeared to have proved himself wrong, or maybe he just hadn’t smoked enough. Or maybe that’s just what he needed to do, that the antidote was in fact to work himself up so much beforehand in anticipation of how it would be that whatever he imagined would subsequently be proved wrong, as that was all it ever consistently seemed to do.
On this occasion it was making itself pretty logically clear that dark and fearful imaginings were not only undesirable but totally unnecessary in that the drawbacks far outweighed the benefits. In fact the only benefit to that way of thinking that Whitetrash was able to discern could only ever be that it helped him avoid such an eventuality when it was well understood that this was simply not the case. The future would happen whether he liked it or not and no amount of foresight would hold any sway on what ultimately happened. Even if he were to act on it, which he invariably did with respect to multiple, diverse issues (this itself playing a crucial part in the overall process), there would be no way for him to know, not least control, what would happen as a result and whether this was any more favourable than the perceived result of his other possible options. In fact it seemed that indeed there were no options, only imagined ones. He could quite easily imagine himself in another situation, but at the end of the day he was not and the decision to make such a change seemed highly unlikely. The push and pull factors were decisively balanced and it seemed that self-preservation was, perhaps undeservedly but nevertheless, just one of many numerous and subtle distinct criteria and only a fraction of his overall concerns to which a determinate amount of heed was paid. In this sense he could fully imagine himself as programmed to go in a certain direction and, much like a robot, carry out his function.
Thus, if they were, each and every one of them, in fact planned on the genetic level to behave in a certain way at a particular point in time and space, would it not then follow that it was all always meant to go the way that it did and does and will. For this line of enquiry he was making three, rather grand assumptions:
1. That there was such a thing as genetics at all as opposed to just another vacuous explanation formulated by imaginative minds for the purpose of pacifying the existential angst of mass ignorance, as credible and accurate as the belief in a group of meddlesome supermen and women living on the top of a mountain.
2. If it was actually empirical fact, that it followed some kind of formal pattern that would point towards meaningful design as opposed to just random mutation the pattern of which only aroused awe, wonder and mystery for the simple reason that absolutely none of them understood it, at all.
3. That their genetic make-up had any bearing on the decisions they made, both conscious, unconscious and involuntary (if it did also have something to do with nurture it would then need to have been ascertained whether this too followed some kind of formal pattern which again pointed at meaningful design).
They filled in the blanks with assumptions; blind spots were replaced with their visible surroundings. They assumed that a beautiful pattern must be created by some kind of being similar to themselves (if not a little bigger) just because they would have done the same had they been in charge. But then again they were also the product of whatever was in charge, the same force that had created the sublime Milky Way was also responsible for humankind. So surely their appreciation and attempts at imitation of everything around them, including themselves, would suggest that they shared something in common with this supposedly responsible agent.
Was the pattern supposedly being followed actually being followed at all? And if it was, was it consciously organising itself for, it seemed, nothing more than aesthetic expression? Was it for that matter particularly aesthetic in the first place? Of course he saw beauty but he also saw ugliness, hardship and suffering. The question it seemed to be worthwhile asking therefore was how much ugliness, hardship and suffering did he see on a daily basis compared to the amount of beauty, peace and happiness? For if this could be determined one way or the other, maybe he could work out once and for all whether it was indeed the work of a grand aesthetician.
Going back to the question as to whether genetics did actually exist at all, it was not too unreasonable to wonder whether it was all in fact nothing more than rumour and hearsay and only ever the crazed hallucinations of every last one of them if not just downright lies. If he was to assume that everything he’d been told about all this was actually true in the objective sense of the word, if objective truth were in fact a reality, the beauty and complexity and absurdity of life would be quite rightfully astounding. If on the other hand none of it turned out to be anything more than a grand delusion, the beauty and complexity and absurdity of life would remain, if not on a slightly more intimate level. Indeed he would be able to deny the existence of everything that did not occur in his own narrow corridor of perception and therefore become the sole creator of all that was.
Whether genetics actually existed or not Whitetrash came to the puzzling albeit not too unnerving conclusion that, when all was said and done, he still appeared to be programmed. There were conditions and there was room for manoeuvre but the actual course of action taken was informed by various subtle synergising prompts each a condition in itself created by either initial nature or previous experience and as possible to ignore as his very humanity and therefore the perceived room for manoeuvre was no room for manoeuvre at all.
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